Hesitate
by A Little Rusty
Summary: And it strikes Arnold, not for the first time, that there's something beautiful about his bully. It isn't as obvious as Rhonda's or Lila's... but all the same it's there. And it's big, it's important but it's not as... demanding. It's muted and somehow that makes his tormentor even more beautiful.


**Hesitate**

**and it strikes Arnold, not for the first time, that there's something beautiful about his bully.**

**It isn't as _obvious_ as Rhonda's or Lila's... but all the same it's there. And it's big, it's important but it's not as... demanding. It's muted and somehow that makes his tormentor _even more_ beautiful**.

* * *

Another one of Rhonda's parties. Same drunk shit and grinding fiesta. And every year it gets worse and worse.

He wonders why he even bothered to come.

Oh, that's right.

Helga G. Pataki.

The girl with the heavy eyebrows (plural, now) and even prettier - _meaner_, he meant to say meaner - scowl.

She was invited to all the parties but simply didn't go to any. Too cliché, she told him once. But he's got good intel that she was '**most definitely**' going.

He heard it from Gerald, who got it from Phoebe.

And everyone who's worth their two cents KNOWS that anything that comes from Phoebe MUST be true.

He spent a half hour looking for her in the mass of mingling guest and just as he was about to make his way to her, a curly red head dragged him to the dance floor; flirty and drunk - most boys would be happy but it's Arnold... He never liked these parties too anyway. Mostly, he just comes for Gerald's sake... designated driver, more like it.

But nevertheless he ends up dancing and he thought he'd give her three minutes tops. But she starts grinding on him and _Jesus_, he really should have said no.

**_You're always too polite, football head._** Arnold could almost hear Helga rolling her eyes and giving him an all too smug smirk.

His cheeks blaze up and he really wishes he didn't come to this party to begin with.

He makes a quick exit when the girl was too busy bending over.

* * *

Arnold casually leans on the doorway, sipping his beer. He doesn't drink much, just took it to be polite.

His eyes automatically find Helga.

He watches her from across the room. And something must be wrong because her arms are crossed and she's glaring daggers. Phoebe's there beside her, rubbing a placating hand up and down Helga's arm. Her cheeks are red and Arnold isn't sure if it's because the Asian girl had too much to drink or because she was embarrassed.

And he feels it happening even before Helga moved. He sees the tension crawling under her skin, making her muscles taut.

Helga G. Pataki was in a right mood and god bless the **damned** soul that put her there.

He sees her stomp, slowly increasing her gait, righteous anger puffing out her ears... and he catches her mid-run.

She's tall built like her mom, if not leaner and meaner.

And he's glad he was built like his dad and not like his grandpa, the long and wiry man.

"LET ME GO, FOOTBALL HEAD," she shouts and he's too busy trying to not drop her to even _think_ about replying.

She's kicking and growling and she's close to biting his ear off.

Still Arnold doesn't put her down until they're out and a few steps from Rhonda's stoop with the stairs that spill to the gravely driveway.

She pushes him roughly and makes to go up the marble steps but Arnold blocks her.

"Move out of my way, football head," low and threatening.

And he really should turn away but he has never given up on her. Ever. Try as he might, the football headed boy could never quite quit this impossible girl.

I wonder how that happened...

He blinks because he absolutely has no idea how.

Helga G. Pataki has become a part of him... and it was slow and snail paced but it's the truth... And stranger still, he **doesn't** even wonder why this truth doesn't scare him.

Helga growls and Arnold is reminded of an angry beast.

This girl.

"Tell me what happened."

She lets out an aggravated huff; he probably shouldn't have reminded her of her anger. But Arnold is a bold kid.

He sits on a step because he has a feeling he's in for a long haul.

She's pacing up and down, hands balled into fist and he knows (just _knows_) she was dying to take a swing at something.

"That **_girl_**," she spits out, stabbing a finger to the open double doors, "isn't worth the _cheap_ make up she puts on!" and she's in a right fit; Arnold knows better than to interrupt to ask exactly which girl she was talking about.

"You know what she said? **_Do you know what she said?!_**" she faces him now and though he knows it's rhetorical he can't help but feel like he SHOULD know what the girl said.

He shakes his head from where he was sitting, trying his hardest to seem like the ardent listener instead of the lovesick idiot who was fascinated with her hair. Her side plait was coming undone, wisps of it tickling her chin...

And angry white puffs were coming from her mouth... Oh, right. It's cold outside.

He takes off his blue sweater and hands it to her when he notices she wasn't even close to finished. She grabs it and hastily puts it on, all the while not missing a beat or a step.

This wasn't the first time he offered her his sweater. She just learned to accept the gesture instead of fighting him about it. Helga G. Pataki was stubborn... But not as stubborn as goody two shoes Arnold Shortman.

"She said - and get a load of this, Arnoldo - " she says disbelievingly " - she says, the only _way_ Phoebe could get a guy like Gerald was if she _did_ his homework AND _paid_ for his gas money!" her voice pitched ridiculously higher.

She's incredulous and... beautiful.

"And **_nooo_**, that's not even it! The swine had the _balls_ to turn to Phoebe and stage whisper to her baboons!" she's pacing up and down again, "Said it won't be long till Gerald leaves her for someone _better_!" she throws her hands up and stops right in front of him.

She made goo-goo eyes, clapped her hands together, and said brightly (way too perky for his tastes) false falsetto in place, "_Like me!_"

She drops her falsely bright persona and grinds the gravel beneath her feet.

"What a **_drag_**!" she all but growls.

She makes a ball with her hands and pantomimes squishing a head, "I get _soo_ mad! This wasn't even the first chick I've heard bad mouthing Phoebe about Gerald!" she huffs some more before she grinds her teeth.

She stays quiet, simmering in her anger...

She loses steam; shoulders slumped, "They just don't _get_ it."

He chooses here to interrupt.

"You said it yourself,Helga. They aren't worth it... If you had to explain it to them (something as simple as Gerald loving Phoebe) then they're probably not worth your time...," he gives her a pointed look, heavy with double meaning. "Or fists," he adds after awhile when he sees that she got his hidden message.

He gets it. Everything. She didn't have to tell him lies or even explain her odd and crazy behavior all throughtout the years... Football head was really tredding close to home now. Jesus, she needed a change of pace.

She blinks her wide eyes rapidly... And changes the subject to safer waters.

"How'd you know I was about to jump her anyway?" she sits beside him.

"I've been watching you all night," a slip up? Maybe... but really they need this.

"Oh," she sounds nonplussed. Football head, she silently warns. She clears her throat, "Cool beans, Arnoldo, cool beans." What follows is her nervous laughter and he smiles endearingly up to the sky.

"Full moon," he points out.

Just the distraction he knows she needed. How many outs has he given her this month alone?

"Yea," she says dreamily, "it's down right _beautiful_ when it's like this,"

She turns to him;

"Don't you think?"

And it's his turn to blink rapidly... With the moon dancing on her face... Helga G. Pataki looks utterly kissable.

He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid. They've been dancing around each other for years but for the past few months he's been wanting (more than ever) to be sweeter with her. More affectionate... And he's not sure if she's ready for that step just yet.

He let's her decide. Always.

He faces her almost longingly. He drinks her all in.

Her hair's a mess and he has the childish urge to pull on it.

If he sees the indecision on his face, she doesn't mention it.

And without his permission, his hand reaches up and undoes the silk ribbon (pink, of course), her hair slowly coming out in soft waves.

She lets out a surprised 'oh' and consciously fluffs her hair. And the prettiest shade of rose blossoms on her cheeks... All he wants to do is kiss them.

He clears his throat and tears his gaze from her.

He stands up abruptly and brushes the dirt off his khaki pants, "I'm heading back in."

He faces down to her finally when he's done pretending to clean his pants, "You coming?" already knowing her answer.

"You go first, football head," she says, fiddling with his sweater sleeves; "I think I'll stay out here for a bit," her head turning to look up at him.

As if the moon wasn't enough... The elegant twist of her neck and the soft waves of her hair surely would make him break.

He clears his throat and hurries up the stairs. Right. He _really_ needed to get away from her.

...

"Hey, Arnold," she calls out to him.

And she's there with the inky night as a backdrop, the moon's glow, the porch light's dancing beams... and it strikes Arnold, not for the first time, there's something beautiful about his bully.

It isn't as _obvious_ as Rhonda's or Lila's... but all the same it's there. And it's **big**, it's **important** but it's not as... demanding. It's muted and somehow that makes his tormentor _even more_ beautiful.

"Yea?" he says when she doesn't continue. He's made it to the open heavy double doors when she called.

She's rubbing the elbow of her other arm and there's an itch at the back of his head. I've seen this before, it says.

"Helga?" he's tempted to go down the stoop but something tells him he should stay.

"Arnold," she says finally. But to the bottom step.

"You don't have to say anything," she scrunches up her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "But, hear me out, okay?"

Arnold, though dense boy he is, gets this feeling that this moment won't come back anytime soon. He should listen. And he better listen good.

"Go ahead, Helga," and he's so in tune now that the sound of blood rushing in his ears are almost deafening. Stranger still he hears his own heartbeat beating something loud.

"Football head," she starts and she's dropped her hand but there's still a pinched look to her face, "I've been _shit_ to you all these years but there's a reason for that," she says like the words don't want to come out.

She takes a deep breath and he's almost sure she'd leave it with that.

But she carries on. Arnold's not sure when he went down the first step.

"I think you've figured it out," she says empathically, shoulders shrugged, still to the bottom step though, "or at least you have probably guessed by now." She chances a look at him and he likes how her eyes minutely bugged out in surprise, he's down a few more steps now.

She shakes her head and then clears her throat uncomfortably.

"What I'm trying to say is... You better listen up because I will _NEVER_ ever say this piece again," she points a warning finger and he gives a soft chuckle.

He knows she doesn't mean it. She can say all the defensive things she wants but the boy with 'cornflower' hair knows... She doesn't mean any of it.

He has known this girl since preschool. He _knows_ her. She can hide all she wants. He's just waiting for her to come out.

It'd be easier than forcing her out.

It's been gradual. Little things from him, so as not to scare her off. Small grenades here and there. Few slips ups. Too many I'll walk you home's and roundabout movie dates...

"I'm listening, Helga," he gives her a half lidded lazy smile.

She swallows audibly. He's closer now and he can see it. Her mask cracking in places, falling bit by bit.

And she's there. New and open. JUST for him.

She's dropped all pretenses now. And he knows something honest is going to come out.

She gives him a sad tired smile. And he wants to say something encouraging. **_Come on, just a bit _more_ then you're home free._**

But she's guarded this (non) secret for way too long. They want to come out but at the same time they simply _won't_.

He's made it to last step and one more down and he would be there with her.

He takes the last step almost shyly.

She's still giving him the tired smile.

She takes a hesitant step forward.

She looks up at him through her lashes. She better hurry up before... Before he kisses her.

They've been waiting for this. And it's odd. He thought a moment like this would be... louder. There would be more glaring and stubbornness. Like maybe after a fight, when their voices are hoarse and with their breaths seething and blood boiling. She'd scream it to him and he'd grab her.

But instead... it's shier. Quiet. But all the same heavy.

It's not the heat of the moment thing at all... this is _even_ better.

He gives her an encouraging smile. He wants her, can't she see?

"Helga, there's nothing to worry about," he whispers and his fingers find hers, "Trust me."

She closes her eyes. And ever the poet, she says her piece...

"_No one else will have me like you do;_

_No one else will have me, **only** you._"

She barely had the words out when he kisses her. He kisses her long and hard and every time he begins to pull away, he kisses her right back again.

He gives her two more kisses. One short and the last one longer. Her hands have a grip on his collar and his are on her waist and her soft _soft_ hair.

"Now was **that** _so_ hard?" he says exasperatedly, if not a little too breathless.

"S-shut up, Arnoldo."

He gives her a half lidded smile and slowly wraps his arms around her. She's a little slower but her arms find him too.

And without knowing it, he picks her up and slowly spins her around.

A bit sappy for them but who the fuck cares. He did it because one, he could and two, she makes him happy.

He pulls away and he almost affectionately laughs at her rapidly blinking wide eyes.

He gives her cheek one last lingering soft kiss (something from the shy schoolboy inside him) before he walks her home.

Gerlad can drive himself home tonight.

* * *

"D-don't think this changes anything, Arnoldo," they're half to her house when she says it.

He chuckles because a few blocks ago she wasn't as mean. The opposite, actually. She stopped suddenly and almost shyly tugged him to her.

**_What a girl._**

He bends his head so it's level to hers. And as expected the loveliest shade of rose paints her cheeks and her chin instantly tucked itself in, head pulled a margin away.

He gives her a teasing smirk before he kisses her forehead.

"Whatever you say, Helga."

* * *

**Arnold slowly making his way down the steps echo their slow ass growth. In case you missed that.**

**Helga's confession courtesy of 23 by Jimmy Eat World.**

**Did you love it? If you did make some noise and drop me a review! **

**I might make another one shot Roundabout... I have the story but have yet to write it down.**

**Tell me.**

**xx**


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